Page 92 of Imprisoned

“Not to love a broken man?” I finish for her.

“Not to throw your life away for someone who can never truly be fixed.” She stops again, tears tracking down her cheeks. “I’m trying to understand. I am. The problem is every time I look at him, I see the monster from the news reports. The killer.”

“Then look harder,” I beg. “See the man beneath that. The one who’s learning to control himself. The one who’d die to protect me.”

“Or kill for you?” The question hangs between us, uncomfortable and accurate.

I don’t deny it. Can’t deny it. “Would that be so wrong if it meant keeping me safe?”

Mom’s silence speaks volumes.

We walk back to the house in silence, the gulf between us as vast as the ocean beside us.

40

AXEL

Ifind Anna in the garden before dawn, her hands working methodically among the flowers despite the early hour. She doesn’t startle when I approach, though I know she hears me. The voices in my head are quiet this morning, giving me the clarity I’ll need for this conversation.

“You’re up early,” I say, keeping my distance.

She doesn’t look up from the bougainvillea she’s trailing along a wooden trellis. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“That makes two of us.” I move closer, noticing how the trellis wobbles as she works. “Let me help with that.”

Anna pauses, finally looking at me. Her eyes are tired but sharp, assessing. After a moment, she nods.

I kneel beside her, steadying the structure while she weaves the vibrant vines through the lattice. We work silently for several minutes, the task routine creating a strange peace between us.

“Why my daughter?” she finally asks, her voice low but steady. “Of all the women in the world, why Willow?”

The question’s directness catches me off guard. I consider deflecting, using the charm that’s manipulated so many before, but something tells me Anna deserves the truth.

“She silences the voices,” I admit. “When I’m with her, the chaos in my head... stops.”

Anna’s hands pause. “The voices that tell you to hurt people?”

“Yes.” There’s no point denying what she already knows.

“And if they come back?” Her eyes meet mine, unflinching. “If they tell you to hurt her?”

The thought makes something cold twist in my chest. “I’d leave. Disappear before I ever let that happen.”

“Just like that?” Skepticism colors her tone. “You’d walk away from someone you claim to care about?”

“I don’t just care about her.” The words feel strange on my tongue but undeniably true. “I love her. And that’s why I’d rather cut off my own hands than hurt her.”

Anna studies my face, searching for deception. “You know what love is? A man who’s done the things you’ve done?”

“I didn’t.” I help her secure another section of vine. “Not until Willow. I thought it was a weakness, something to exploit in others. But now...”

“Now what?” she presses.

“Now I understand it’s the only thing worth protecting.” I meet her gaze steadily. “Your daughter showed me that. She saw something in me everyone else missed—including myself.”

Anna turns back to gardening, but I notice her hands trembling slightly. “She’s always been that way. Seeing the good in people, even when it’s buried deep.”

“There wasn’t much good to find in me,” I admit. “But she created some, somehow.”

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